Anchor
by Bohemian Storm
Summary: Lucius broke him once and he's determined to break him again. LM/SS slash.


**Anchor**

_By Bohemian Storm_

**Disclaimer**:  I don't own the following characters.  They belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Notes**: This is dark slash.  There are suggestions of rape and abuse, so consider yourself forewarned.  Flames will be used to light the flamer's computer on fire.

Dedicated to Dia because she knows the slash dance.  Hah!

            Lucius Malfoy had never meant for it to simply end like it had.  Ignoring the younger man's words and half choked sobs, he had walked out of the room and pretended that nothing had ever really happened between the two of them.  If he pretended that it hadn't happened, then maybe he could convince himself that it really never had.  Maybe he could wipe it from his mind and concentrate on the future.  He was going to be a Death Eater, after all.  He was engaged and he was going to follow Voldemort to the top.

            He didn't have time to invest the crushes of snivelling potion's boys.  His time was important and valuable.  His time was beyond that which Severus Snape could ever use properly and fully.  He was still just a boy, after all.

            Hesitant kisses in a darkened room could only go so far.  Dry, trembling hands on his skin could only do so much to please him.  He needed expertise, experience beyond anything the boy possessed.  He yearned for more of the fluttering little kisses that spoke volumes of how scared Snape really was, but he couldn't be bothered to deal with the aftermath of their nights.  He couldn't find it in himself to care about the boy's feelings.  

            Years would undo the damage he had done, he was sure of that.  After all, he thought, how far could a silly crush stretch?  For how many years could someone really pine after another?  For how long would the pain and humiliation really haunt the boy?

            A cold smile caressed his lips as he turned to stare at Snape a final time.  Beyond the tears shimmering on his cheeks there was anger in his black eyes.  It was an anger that would burn for years longer than Lucius had ever thought possible. 

            The smell of blood was on the air, a hint of terror mixed in for the perfect cocktail of scents.  Lucius relished in it before closing the door and closing Severus Snape out of his life.

            The next time they met, the ending would be no less painful.

*

_Two Years Later . . ._

            Fear tainted the air.  He could practically taste it even as he walked carefully down the hall toward the room that held his prize.  Lucius Malfoy had entered the house uninvited and had been let in only because he was one of Voldemort's closest followers.  He had a high rank in the Death Eaters, higher than any of them had ever seen before.  He also had a pregnant wife; a family for the new world Voldemort called them.

            It was for these reasons that they had let him in, hesitating at first, then glancing at the wand encased in a black walking staff topped with a silver serpent's head and thinking better of their decision.  He would report back to the Dark Lord about how they had treated him; they knew this with a sickening certainty just like they knew they would be dead if they didn't treat him with respect.  They lived in a hierarchal world once again and they were currently on the lowest possible rung of the social ladder.

            It was their fear that he could taste as he strolled down the hall.  It hung about them like sweat and perfume, encasing them in it's scent.  It pleased him that he could induce such a fear in wizards just as powerful and maybe just as strong as he was.  His only weapon was his stature; the place he held at the right hand of the Dark Lord.  He was simply powerful by association and while he knew that, he hoped in his deepest heart that no one else ever figured it out.

            Power was his tool and people were his toys.  He could entertain himself for hours with their terror and their trembled sighs of dread.  He had created a game and it's rules were simple.  Power and hatred meant you moved forward to spaces.  Weaknesses and fear could send you to jail.  The pawns were always weak and the king was always strong.

            Lucius missed his old pawn, the one who had actually managed to anchor him to feelings for a short period of time.  This old player in the game that Lucius dominated had almost pulled him down.  They had almost lost the game together and when he looked back on it, he realized what a sweet loss it would have been.  Death surely would have followed by the hand of Voldemort himself, but for just an instant to know what love felt like . . . the loss would have been justified somehow.

            He was convinced now that love was a weakness.  To think that he had once almost felt it was as humiliating as admitting that his wife now refused to touch him.  No one knew that her cold hands hadn't passed over his skin in months; no one knew that his needs had gone unfulfilled night after night as she cooed at the unborn baby developing inside of her.  It sickened him and he hated the child almost immediately.  It hadn't even been born and yet his hatred grew with each day they drew nearer to its due date.  

            If he was forced to spend the rest of his young life taking care of a child, then he would have fun one final time if it killed him.  What better way to have fun than to return to the person he blamed for his personal weaknesses?  Who better to challenge him than the root of his deepest fears?

            The door to his right was warm under his touch, but he pushed it open without hesitation.  Now that he had come this far there was no room for hesitation.  He had a purpose, a will.  He had a reason to be there and no power on this earth would stop him from breaking the one he swore he hated.

            Lucius stared at the body bent over a cauldron, a smile twitching on his lips.  Dark, lank hair hung in strands around the other man's face, his hawkish nose still visible beneath it's curtain.  Lean, limber fingers worked furiously with ingredients, pausing every so often to flip the page of an ancient text and skitter briefly across the words.

            "Severus."  The name was like poison on his tongue and his mouth dried as he spoke it.

            Snape blinked and glanced up, standing too quickly and wincing at the searing pain that shot through his tired back.  With one hand pressing into the small of his back, he straightened fully and with the other he pushed the dark hair out of his eyes.  The light of the torch on the wall flickered in his dark eyes as he studied the man in the doorway.

            "Lucius," he said evenly.

            With a smile, Lucius tipped his head slightly, then entered the room and shut the door behind him.  Snape said nothing, obviously waiting for Lucius to make the next move.  He trembled with anticipation and it became apparent within seconds that Snape wanted to play the game.

            "Working hard?" Lucius asked.

            "Harder than others," Snape replied.

            Shadows danced in the corners, flickering and swirling with the light of the torches and candles.  The flames cast shadows across Snape's sallow features, making him out to look far older than he really was.

            Lucius smiled lightly.  "Is that meant to be an insult, Severus?  Really, I expect better from that caustic tongue of yours."  He stared at Snape for just a moment too long, letting the undertones of that statement sink in.  

            Snape didn't flush like he would have only years ago.  He only stared steadily at Lucius, the black pools slightly unnerving in the dim light of the room.  He had changed in a very short time, but Lucius was certain he could break him.  He never lost.

            "My insults are best left reserved to those who earn them," Snape finally replied.  "As far as I can tell you've earned nothing in your life to date."

            Lucius arched an eyebrow.  "Much better, Severus.  There's a bit of the old spirit I left uncrushed."

            Snape flinched at this, but responded quickly.  "If it makes you feel any better, I can honestly assure you that you left no part of me uncrushed, Lucius."

            "Tut, tut," Lucius said.  "Is that a grudge you're holding?"

            "Well, being left broken hearted and bleeding does that to a person," Snape said icily.

            Lucius's lips twitched again.  "Accidents happen, Severus."

            "Not with a person's body, they don't," he snapped back.  "What you did to me . . . what I let happen is unforgivable."

            "You blame yourself?" Lucius asked, genuinely surprised.

            Snape glared at him.  "How could I not?  I invited it.  I practically begged for it and then I couldn't take what you had to give to me."

            Lucius had to hold back the bubbling laughter.  "Oh, Severus, you're priceless.  I thought you'd be above that bullshit of the victim blaming himself."

            Snape's eyes hardened.  "Don't worry, Lucius.  I left plenty of blame for you."

            "And don't you just hate me for what I did?" he asked.

            Snape flinched again, but this time chose to remain silent.  His eyes spoke for him, despite what his tongue might refuse to say.  There was hatred in those eyes, a deep hatred that Lucius had never seen before, but there were other emotions as well.  There was a longing that he had never expected to see there and something else as well.  It looked like determination, but determination to do what, Lucius couldn't tell.

            "Just tell me, Severus," he said.  "Won't it feel so much better to have it all out in the open?"

            "Why are you here?" Snape asked instead.  "Why did you come to see me now?"

            "I needed to see you," Lucius hissed in a vicious voice.  "Don't you understand that sometimes I need to see you?"

            "Why?" Snape demanded.  "Is Narcissa not enough for you?  Can't you cause her enough pain to satisfy yourself?"

            Lucius stepped forward and was pleased to see Snape move around the table to keep the distance between them.  With a smirk, he simply shoved the desk out of the way and continued his prowl toward the other man.

            "I didn't come here to talk about Narcissa."

            "Joy," Snape drawled.  "And I was so hoping for an in-depth discussion about your marriage."

            Lucius's grin grew.  "I miss that sharp and biting sarcasm, Severus."

            "Well, you'll be glad to know that you nearly beat it out of me, won't you?"

            A mock pout crossed his face as he closed off more of the distance between himself and the genius behind the potions Voldemort had at his disposal.  There was a nearly unrecognizable twitch of Snape's left eye as Lucius stepped into him, pushing him against the hard wall.

            "I meant to beat nothing out of you but your insolence," Lucius hissed, dropping his staff to the stone floor and pressing his hands on either side of Snape's body.

            "You failed," Snape hissed back.  "I've waited for the day when I could finally repay you for what you've done to me."

            Lucius's lip curled up on one side and he tilted his head.  "Repay me, then."

            He had expected an attempted Cruciatus Curse, perhaps even a shout of _Avada Kedavra, but nothing could have prepared him for what actually happened.  He had never expected to feel lips crashing down on his own, teeth grazing across his mouth in a needy pull to get him to kiss back.  The kiss grated against him, taking him off guard long enough for Snape to stick the end of his wand against Lucius's stomach._

            "Imperio," he whispered silkily against Lucius's mouth and his body froze.

            This he had definitely not been expecting.  The Imperius Curse had not been one of the curses he assumed Snape might try to use.

            "Now then," Snape began, tapping his wand impatiently against the palm of his hand.  "Where could I possibly begin?  I could use the Cruciatus Curse, but somehow that just doesn't seem like a proper revenge tactic.  After all, Lucius, you used your bare hands on my face."

            A cold finger reached out and slid down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.  The nail scraped lightly against his jaw before withdrawing and if he could have shuddered, he would have.

            "Do you understand the shame?" Snape asked, black eyes burning with hatred.  "Do you even understand the pain of being violated the way you violated me?  Do you know what it's like to go home and to face your parents when they've already heard?"

            Lucius had told his father and they had laughed about it.  He supposed it was only fair to assume that his father had told Snape's father about it, hoping to disgrace the man as much as his son had been disgraced.

            The blow was unexpected, but his head rocked back with the impact and he felt a drop of blood slid from between his lips.  It trickled down his chin and quivered there for a moment before dropping silently to the floor where his wand lay.  The pain exploded across his face a second later, a delayed reaction caused by the Imperius Curse that he was currently under.  He felt as if his teeth had been shattered inside his mouth and would later find one slightly loose, blaming it immediately on the blow he had taken.

            "That pain isn't even a fraction of what I suffered at your hands," Snape said.  "You tried to break me and I knew by the look in your eyes when you left that you thought you had succeeded.  That's how I knew you'd be back for more.  If I was broken there was nothing left to fear."

            The cold hand caressed his face again, cupping his cheek as the thumb slid across the trickle of blood.  Snape's body pressed tightly against his.

            "I didn't break, Lucius," he whispered.  "And now I can make you do anything I want.  Now you know what it's like to feel helpless, to wonder what the next feeling will be.  Will it be pleasure or pain?  I never knew with you."

            Lucius felt his body relax and he nearly collapsed to the floor.  Snape had turned his back on him and tucked his wand away.  

            "Why did you keep coming back?" he hissed, supporting his weakened body against the wall.

            Snape turned back and stared at him for a long moment.  "You were like an anchor, Lucius.  You weighed me down until I was drowning and when I finally realized what was happening it was too late."

            "Why didn't you take your revenge?" he asked.

            "I'm not like you," Snape replied.  "I don't need to exert power and pain over a person to take revenge.  All I need to know is that I've won."

            Lucius chuckled darkly.  "You've won nothing, Severus."

            "What does it take to win in your mind, Lucius?  More pain?  I can give you more pain."

            Lucius pushed away from the wall and grabbed Snape's wrists tightly.  He backed them up until they were against the wall again and Snape's wrists were pinned against the stone behind them.

            "Pain?" Lucius asked, cocking his head.  "It was never about pain.  It was only about who has more power."

            Snape stiffened.  "And you're going to tell me that while you were under the Imperius Curse that you had the power?"

            Lucius shook his head.  "Not at all.  But I am going to tell you that I don't need to use a silly curse to exert my power.  All I have to do it remind you of what we were.  You're weak, Severus, you always were weak."

            "I'm not weak," Snape insisted.

            Lucius's hold on his wrists relaxed, but they remained pressed against the stone wall.

            "You're weak," he whispered, his lips grazing over Snape's ear.  

            "I'm . . ." a sigh escaped Snape's lips as he struggled.  "I'm not."

            "You are," Lucius said, his mouth nearing Snape's.  "I can call and you'll come.  That's the way it's always been and it's the way it always will be."

            The kiss drew the breath from Snape's body and as Lucius felt him yield beneath him, he knew he had won.  Severus Snape would always be weak.  He'd never be brave enough to leave.

            Snape closed his eyes and let himself be claimed.  "I fucking hate you," he hissed as Lucius pushed him toward the desk and bent over him.

            "That doesn't fucking matter," Lucius replied.

            He had won again.  That was all that mattered in the end.  He was still the victor; the anchor that weighed Severus Snape down and drowned him in an ocean of pain and betrayal.  

End


End file.
